


Too Much

by praguethewienerdog



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: 'cause I can't write smut lol, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 16:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16559099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/praguethewienerdog/pseuds/praguethewienerdog
Summary: Takes place after the epilogue story of Garden of Light. Also doesn't take Yasha into account because I haven't read it yet :)





	Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after the epilogue story of Garden of Light. Also doesn't take Yasha into account because I haven't read it yet :)

Yut-Lung sighed a breath of relief as his private jet touched down. It’s not that he was afraid of flying, rather he was simply exhausted from maintaining his empire in Hong Kong. That said, he wasn’t back in New York for a mere vacation; he had to make sure that the idiot Sing wasn’t running his empire  _ here _ into the ground.

“Sir, your things are unloaded. Shall I escort you to the car?” one of his bodyguards asked.

“I suppose,” he sighed as he uncrossed his legs and slunk out of his chair. The corner of his mouth perked up slightly as he descended from the jet into the night air. Yes, he’d be the last to admit it, but he was glad to see New York again.

Yut-Lung noticed as soon as he was put into the car. “What are you doing here?” he spat at the driver.

The driver laughed, pulling off the silly chauffeur hat and flinging it onto the passenger seat.

“I really can’t surprise you, can I?” asked Sing with a devilish grin.

“Remind me to fire the idiot that hired you.”

“That would be you, wouldn’t it?”

“I  _ meant _ the idiot who hired you  _ as a chauffeur _ ,” he added irritatedly. “If he couldn’t recognize you than he has no business working for me.”

“Nice to see you too…” Sing muttered as Yut-Lung crossed his arms and legs in the back seat.

“Whatever, just take me to the Long Island house. I need a bath and some rest.” He pinched the bridge of his nose for emphasis, but Sing remained silent. “What?” he asked.

“I had plans…”

“That’s fine. I don’t care what you do for fun after hours, but drop me off-”

“You were part of those plans.”

“Oh.” Yut-Lung could feel his face heat up, he disliked being caught off guard like this. “Where’s the reservation at?” he asked brushing a speck of dust off his leg nonchalantly.

Sing snorted.

“What? Why are you laughing? Sing, I swear to God-”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, repressing his chuckles, “it’s just it’s not that kind of place.”

Yut-Lung’s eyes narrowed. “Where exactly are you taking me?”

“Don’t worry, you’re gonna love it,” he said with that devilish grin. “It’s totally your kind of place.”

And by his kind of place, Sing meant absolutely the opposite. A dingy little bar in the heart of the city.

“There’s a change of clothes for you under the seat,” Sing said.

“You expect me to wear  _ this _ ?” he asked, gesturing to the jeans, turtleneck, and sneaker combo.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Yut-Lung glared at him.

“Well,  _ I’m  _ going to have fun anyway. I’m changing out of this stuffy costume and having a few. You can either join me, or sit in the car and pout.”

“I am not-” Yut-Lung tried to protest, but Sing was already out of the car and across the street. He looked down at the clothes in his lap and sighed. Why he had left New York to this idiot, he’d never figure out.

Yut-Lung stepped inside the bar, feeling completely out of his element.  It’s not that he was unopposed to getting his hands dirty when need be, but the idea of finding a place like this  _ relaxing _ made him think that Sing (along with all the other patrons) was insane.

Sing waved at Yut-Lung from a seat towards the end of the bar. He had changed into jeans, a tshirt, and a leather jacket, and Yut-Lung blushed a little at the sight of him. He used to be this little, scrawny brat, but ever since he’d turned sixteen, Sing had grown both tall and wide to the point where, now, every tshirt he owned stretched over his thick muscles and every jacket accentuated his broad shoulders.

“I told the bartender you like champagne,” said Sing, passing him a glass.

Yut-Lung sat down on rickety bar stool, bringing the flute of bubbly liquid to his lips and downing it in one sip.

“So,” he said, placing the glass back down on the bar, “what is this actually about?” He smirked, Sing’s surprised face filling him with smug satisfaction. “Please. You expect me to believe you kidnapped me and took me to a place you  _ knew _ I’d dislike just for the sheer fun of it?”

Sing hesitated. “How are things in Hong Kong?”

“Fine,” Yut-Lung said as the bartender refilled his glass.  
“You haven’t been calling me much.”

“Aw, are you worried about me?” he mocked.

Sing just looked at him, his eyes radiating such intensity that Yut-Lung’s chest hurt.

“Honestly, things are fine,” he said. “Busy, but fine.” He sipped his champagne, trying to avoid Sing’s gaze.

“You know you can call whenever right? It doesn’t matter what time it is here, I’ll pick up.”

“Of course I know that!” he huffed.

“About  _ anything _ .”

“I said I know!” he yelled, springing out of his seat and knocking over his drink.

Silence and stares filled the air around them. Quietly, Yut-Lung sat back down and the bar resumed its usual bustle, but tension still fell heavy between the two young men.

That was, of course, until Sing chuckled.

“What?” Yut-Lung snapped, glaring at him

“Nothing, I just love this song,” he said, gesturing with his eyes to the fast-paced rap that just came on. He tapped his finger on the bar to the beat and then, as if it was as natural as breathing, began to rap along to the song, his tongue and lips moving together fast and graceful, like a lovers’ tango. Like he’d been doing this his whole life. And then it occurred to Yut-Lung: he probably  _ has _ . He’s just never been willing to ask about Sing’s past. Willing? Or is it something else...All he knew is that looking at this 6’3” doofus who grins while he raps, his heart hurt with a longing so deep he could sink in it.

“What?” Sing asked when the song ended, noticing Yut-Lung’s stare.

A breath. A decision.

“Take them off,” Yut-Lung demanded at once, reaching down and undoing Sing’s belt.

“Oi! Yut- What are- Stop!” Sing stammered, struggling to stop Yut-Lung’s hands as they lunged for his zipper.

“Take them off right now!”

“Yut-Lung, please, people are staring-”

“It’s your fault, you jerk!” he yelled, pounding his fists on Sing’s pecs. “You and you’re stupid rap, and your stupid leather jackets, and your stupid face that looks at me with those stupid eyes.” He sniffled and leaned into Sing’s steady chest, trying to hide his flushed face. “Why do you have to care so much, you idiot?” He hated this. He hated what a mess only Sing could make him become. He wanted him to go away, but at the same time he wanted to kiss him, and at the same time he was repulsed by the idea, by the confusion...

“You’re right.”

Yut-Lung felt a chill run down his spine as Sing placed a hand on his back. Then he leaned down and whispered:

“Let’s get outta here.”

Sing remained silent the entire car ride, face tight with...was it anger? Yut-Lung didn’t know, but shame was bubbling up inside of him and threatening to spill over. Was it too much to ask? Too much to want love and physical intimacy? Not the kind of sex he had used as a weapon, but the kind where both heart and body melded. Did he want too much?

“Get in the shower…” Sing muttered as the entered the house. He hung up his jacket in the closet, then strode away, leaving Yut-Sing alone in the entryway.

Not knowing what else to do, Yut-Lung did as we was told and slunk down the hall to the bathroom. He flung his clothes into the laundry basket and untied his hair, letting it fall in waves around him.

Even though the shower water was hot, Yut-Lung wrapped his arms around himself. This loneliness and longing...he had felt it ever since his mother was ripped away from him...the only one who ever loved him...and although his friendship with Sing had helped ease some of the pain, he knew that he would always hurt like this. He wanted too much.

The sound of the door opening made Yut-Lung lift his wet face. “Sing?” he called out.

“I brought you a change of clothes.”

“Oh…” Yut-Lung wrapped his arms around himself tighter, so caught up in himself he didn’t even notice the shower door open and someone else get in with him.

“Yut-Lung…” Sing called softly, reaching out and brushing his elbow.  

Yut-Lung spun around, eyes wide and filled with tears.

Sing opened his arms wide and Yut-Lung fell into them, comforted by the warmth of Sing’s bare skin. He looked up into Sing’s eyes as Sing brushed a long strand of wet hair out of his face for him, Sing’s hand lingering at the base his neck.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Sing asked, stroking the side of Yut-Lung’s face with his thumb.

“Yes,” he whispered, fighting back tears. “So much.”

And with that, Sing leaned down and kissed him, their lips folding together, their bodies melting into one under the steam of the shower.

* * *

 

Moonlight streamed in through the bedroom window, making the white sheets that wrapped around the lovers glow.

Sing leaned back into the pillows, hands behind his head, while Yut-Lung laid his head on Sing’s chest, tracing the man’s abdominal muscles with his fingers.

“Sorry about earlier,” Sing said sitting up more so he could look at Yut-Lung. “I forget sometimes that your still not used to it.”

Yut-Lung propped himself up on his elbows. “I’ve had sex with men before, Sing,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“That’s not what I was referring to,” Sing said, those same eyes from earlier piercing into him.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Yut-Lung stammered, color rising in his face.

Sing exhaled. “Fine, be that way,” he said collapsing back into the pillow.

Yut-Lung resumed his tracing, his head back on Sing’s chest. A soft smile formed on his lips. Yes, he wanted too much, but, fortunately, that stupid Sing always gave too much, too.


End file.
